


Nuts

by 427-67Impala (australis86)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Humor, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-19
Updated: 2011-05-19
Packaged: 2017-10-19 12:11:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/200719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/australis86/pseuds/427-67Impala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The dead are rising - that's nothing new. But Sam and Dean have never seen zombies like this before!<br/>Beware the squirrels!</p><p>Complete. Rated 'teen-and-up' for a little bit of Winchester-vs-squirrel violence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Alleged animal attacks

**Author's Note:**

> This madness began in the CW Lounge, and I blame EvilSquirre1 for setting this plot bunny on me! What started out as a humourous ficlet in response to news stories about crazy squirrels has degenerated into a 6,700-word saga, and I had an absolute blast writing it. :)  
> This was my first attempt at fanfiction, and reviews are much appreciated.
> 
> Beware the squirrels!

_Gatlinburg, Tennessee_

As soon as Sam and Dean got in the door, they stopped to take in their surroundings. Even on the Winchester scale of horrendous motel décor, this room was bad.

Olive green and burnt orange paisley bedspreads, the once-tan carpet now more of a forest-floor brown and slightly threadbare in places, and grainy forest murals on the walls. An ancient TV with dials and rabbit-ears. A dilapidated Formica table - slightly more of a lime green than the bedspreads - in the pigeonhole advertised as a kitchenette, populated by an electric stove that looks more like an overgrown cigarette lighter than an appliance, and an old fridge that reminded Dean of an upended, yellowed Airstream trailer.

"So tell me again why we're here?" Dean sighed, dumping his duffel on the bed nearest the door. He opened up the curtains as far as he could, trying to get a little light into the room.

"We're here because there have been at least half a dozen unusual deaths around here in the last couple of weeks," Sam replied, as he flipped on the lights and set his laptop down on the scuffed kitchen table. The chair, which was older than he was, creaked and rocked on its uneven legs as he tentatively sat down. After a few tense seconds, when the chair didn't give way, Sam opened up the laptop and brought up the victims' obituaries.

"The victims are all young women. They died of massive blood loss, apparently due to 'hundreds of small bites and scratches', and the bodies were found surrounded with acorns and pine nuts," Sam continued, as Dean leaned over his shoulder to check out the screen, interest piqued by the pictures accompanying the victims' obituaries, resting this elbows on the back of Sam's rickety seat. The metal protested, but the chair clung together - when he was satisfied it wasn't going to collapse under him, Sam continued.

"All the bodies were found on the edge of town, almost on the boundary of the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. They had leaf litter, twigs and stuff all over them, but there was no indication the victims had been in the park. One victim had on high heeled shoes, another was wearing a cocktail dress, and so on. Not hiking apparel, you know?" Sam brought up the newspaper's crime scene photos to illustrate his point.

"Well, whatever this is, it has good taste," Dean commented, an approving smile on his face. Sam ignored that, and continued.

"The best the local cops and the National Park Service have come up with is that these women were attacked by a raccoon or something," he said, pulling up the relevant articles on the local newspaper's website.

"And we think they  _weren't_  attacked by a raccoon...?" Dean asked slowly, after a few seconds' pause.

"We investigate alleged animal attacks all the time, Dean. Why not this?" Sam asked, looking over at Dean as he went and sat heavily on the bed.

"It just doesn't feel like our kind of thing, Sam," he sighed, scrubbing his hand over his face. Sam knew what he really meant was  _I've been driving for days and I want_ _some rest,_ _a beer and_ _a pretty girl_. And not necessarily in that order.

"Look, there was a survivor after the last attack: Laura Turner. Let's just go talk to her - that's how we're going to find out if it  _is_ our kind of thing." Sam pressed, making his best puppy dog eyes. Dean, as usual, was helpless to resist.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o- o-o-o

Dean's mood improved considerably when he laid eyes on the woman sitting at the hospital reception desk. "This hunt is looking up, Sammy," he whispered, not noticing Sam roll his eyes as he strode out in front of his brother and up to the desk.

"Hi there... Christina." He leaned over the counter to read her nametag, that megawatt flirting smile on full power. "I'm Agent Shaw, and this is my colleague Ranger Gowan." Dean gestured vaguely towards where he figured Sam was standing, his eyes never leaving Christina. She didn't even glance at the fake badge in Dean's hand - she was busy playing with her long blonde hair, and she couldn't quite seem to look away from his eyes.

"We're from the National Park Service, and we're here to see Laura Turner, the survivor of the latest raccoon attack," Dean drawled, his voice dripping honey.

"Oh, sure," Christina replied, and managed to put the name into her computer with shaky fingers. "Just go right on through those doors at the end of the hall, and up to the fifth floor. Room 514. Here, let me write that down for you..." Christina scribbled down the details, and her cheeks flushed pink as she handed over a scrap of paper and lost herself in Dean's eyes all over again.

"Thanks, Christina." Dean winked at her, and left the poor woman swooning as he walked off down the hall, Sam in tow.

"Maybe this town isn't all bad," Dean observed, a smile still on his face as he pushed open the doors.

"Dude, don't get me wrong - I'm glad you've found a little enthusiasm. It's just that if I have to watch you do that again I may literally throw up," Sam replied drily, only half-joking.

"You have to have a little fun with your work, dude. And  _that_  was fun." Dean chuckled, and Sam just sighed as he pushed the button for the elevator. He noticed Dean put the scrap of paper in his pocket, and shot him a quizzical look. "The room number wasn't the only one she gave me, Sammy." Dean grinned, but Sam just rolled his eyes.

When they found room 514 Sam took the lead, not giving Dean a chance for a repeat performance. He knocked on the doorjamb, even though the door was open and he could see a young woman in the bed.

"Laura Turner?" Sam asked, when she looked up from her book at the two men standing in the doorway. She was pretty, if a little pale, and her face was marked with a myriad of little bites and scratches which were only just now starting to heal and fade. What Sam could see of her arms and chest under her pyjamas was still mostly covered in light bandages, but she didn't seem to be badly injured.

"I'm Ranger Gowan, and this is Ranger Shaw, from the National Park Service," he went on as he and Dean flashed their fake badges in perfect synch, well-practiced at the ruse. "We're in town looking into these raccoon attacks. Are you feeling up to a few questions?" Sam said, silky smooth, as he and Dean moved in to stand at the foot of the bed.

"Sure," Laura replied, marking her place then putting the book on the nightstand.

"Thanks, Laura. Why don't you tell us what happened?" Sam got out his notepad, and Laura took a deep breath.

"I was walking home from a bar in the middle of town - I'd had a few drinks with my coach after training that afternoon. I'm a competitive water-skier, and I'd been training all afternoon on the lake in the national park," Laura explained, and out of the corner of his eye, Sam noticed a smile spreading across Dean's face; Sam knew without a doubt that his brother was imagining Laura in her skiing outfit. As usual, he completely ignored Dean and moved on.

"How did you get from the middle of town to the park?" Sam asked, and she sighed.

"I don't know. When I woke up I was laying under the trees, covered in leaves and nuts and everything, with all these scratches and bites all over me." She spread her bandaged arms. There were even bites on the palms of her hands.

"Did you see what attacked you?" Sam asked, gently.

"I got a glimpse, yeah," she replied, somewhat reluctantly.

"And?" Dean pressed, sensing she was holding something back. Laura looked hesitant, but she went on anyway.  
Neither Dean or Sam was prepared for what she said next.

"Squirrels."

The Winchester boys stared back at her, dumbstruck. "Squirrels?" they asked, in unison, now reasonably sure Laura had a screw loose. Maybe a few screws.

"I know that sounds crazy. But I saw them when they first came at me on the street - a big group of squirrels, and I swear they had red eyes. I couldn't even run, they were all over me before I knew what was happening. The next thing I remember is waking up under the trees." Laura, obviously not encouraged by Sam and Dean's incredulous expressions, sighed and rubbed her eyes.

"Look, I  _know_  it sounds ridiculous, but it's true. My friend Travis saw them - he'll be back from the cafeteria any minute, and you can ask him." Laura laid back into her pillows, waiting for the next question.

"We will. Um -" Sam began, but was interrupted mid-sentence by a voice from the doorway behind them.

"She's telling the truth about the squirrels."

Sam and Dean turned around to see a young, sightly dishevelled blonde guy holding a tray full of cafeteria food standing just inside the door.

"This is Travis. He's the one that found me," Laura explained. Travis came over and set the tray down on her table then sat on the edge of the bed.

"And you saw the… ah, squirrels?" Dean asked Travis, who nodded.

"The ones that weren't attacking Laura came after me. They leapt up off the ground and bit and scratched and - wow, I hope they didn't have rabies or something!" His eyes went wide at that thought.

"Was there anything... strange... about these squirrels?" Sam asked, pretty sure he wasn't going to like the answer.

"I'll say! I've never seen squirrels move like that! They were like freakin' Jackie Chan, dude!" Travis' response was accompanied by a demonstration; he jumped up off the bed into a kung-fu stance, and proceeded to imitate the squirrels. Sam and Dean looked at each other, not quite able to believe what they were hearing. Or seeing, for that matter.

"So they were, like,  _ninja_  squirrels?" Dean asked, slowly.

Travis nodded, sitting back down on the bed by Laura. "It sounds dumb when you say it out loud like that, but... yeah. They were faster and stronger than any other squirrel I've ever seen around here, man! They were leaping like, five or six feet off the ground and swiping at my face with their hands - they moved like animated ninjas in old Hanna-Barbera cartoons, you know?" Travis was, again, making kung-fu motions with his hands as he was talking.

"Like Hong Kong Phooey?" Dean asked, a smile spreading across his face.

"Exactly, man!" Travis grinned, recognising a fellow fan.

"I used to watch that show every Saturday morning!" Dean laughed, ignoring the look Sam threw his way.

"So I think we have everything we need. Thanks - both of you." Sam practically dragged Dean out of the room before he could get into a debate about Saturday morning cartoons.

Neither Sam nor Dean said another word until they were alone in the elevator. "Well this is something new. Squirrels. Homicidal squirrels. Homicidal  _ninja_  squirrels." Dean smiled a little, nudging Sam with his elbow. "But I'm still not convinced it's our kind of thing, Sammy," he added, more seriously.

Sam looked over at his brother, eyebrows raised. "So a drey of homicidal, red-eyed squirrels doesn't sound odd to you?"

Dean chuckled, still obviously getting a kick out of having a conversation about homicidal squirrels. "It sounds plenty odd, Sam, just maybe not our  _kind_  of - hey, wait." Dean paused, realising what Sam had just said. "A  _what_  of homicidal squirrels?"

"A drey."

"What?"

"A drey, Dean. D-R-E-Y. The noun for a group of squirrels." Sam looked over at his older brother, slightly exasperated.

Dean sighed, shaking his head. "You are such a nerd," he replied, a teasing smile on his face.

"Bite me, Dean."

Dean just smiled, watching the elevator count down the floors. "I'm thinking we swing by the spot where they found Laura on the way back to the motel. See what we can see," he offered. That was Dean's version of an olive branch, and Sam knew it was as close as he was going to get to an apology.


	2. Weirder by the minute

Dean took the scenic route on the way back to the motel, taking the road that ran along the boundary of the Great Smoky Mountains National Park.

"Okay, this is the place where Laura was found." Sam pointed out a spot on the side of the road, and Dean pulled the Impala over onto the grass.

"This is a long way from the centre of town, man," Dean commented, as the boys got out onto the strip of green running beside the road. "How the hell did those girls get out here?" he wondered out loud, as Sam pulled out his EMF meter and started checking for signs of spirit activity.

"Spirits, Sam?" Dean asked, sceptically, a little smile on his face.

"You know it's not?" Sam asked, looking up at Dean's back as the eldest Winchester sauntered over towards the park fence, kicking pinecones as he went.

Sam was still checking by the side of the road when Dean started shouting at him. "Dude, you've gotta come over here and check this out!" he called, from his spot at the park fence. Sam sighed, pocketed the EMF meter and went over to see what his brother had found that was so Goddamned interesting.

When Sam joined his brother at the fence, Dean was climbing over the top rail and into the park. "So?" Sam asked, not seeing what the big deal was. All Dean did by way of reply was point through the brush to a small clearing, about ten feet inside the fence.

"Tell me, Sammy, what is  _that_?" Dean asked, watching Sam's eyes widen as they locked on the clearing. Within seconds he'd scrambled over the fence too and was following Dean into the park.

Sam and Dean stood wordlessly on the edge of the clearing, taking in the scene. The clearing, about 20 feet across and surrounded on all sides by trees and bushes, was dotted with dozens of small, perfect circles of dead grass about a foot and a half in diameter. While the forest around the clearing appeared healthy, there were also small dead patches in the bushes and dead branches on the trees around the edges of the clearing.

Sam was first to break the silence. "It almost looks like... unholy ground. A whole lot of small  _patches_ of unholy ground."

"As in the unholy ground you get when zombies rise up out of their graves?" Dean asked, obviously doubtful.

"Yeah." Sam replied, his eyes following the dead spots up the trees. "I mean, what else kills every living thing around it like this?" he added, craning his neck to follow the dead patches all the way up into the canopy.

"Dude, this isn't unholy ground, this is... polka dots! What the hell leaves this sort of pattern when it rises from the dead?" Dean was obviously having a hard time buying Sam's unholy ground theory. Sam couldn't blame him, really - this hunt was getting weirder by the minute.

While Dean walked out into the clearing, apprehensively avoiding the dead patches, Sam knelt down to take a closer look at the nearest dead circle, lost in thought. There was something nagging at him, in the back of his mind - something he'd skimmed while looking through the town paper for articles on the 'raccoon attacks'. He absently gathered up some scattered pine nuts as he thought, unaware that Dean was talking to him until he walked over and smacked him over the head.

"Sam! I said it's getting dark, and we should head back to the motel." Dean watched as Sam stood up and smoothed his hair down, not really paying any attention to what his brother was saying. "That's definitely unholy ground, and we need to work out what the hell rose out of it," he continued, frowning as he watched as Sam look at the pine nuts still in his hand, to the dead patches in the trees, and back to the pine nuts…

"Oh.  _Oh!_ "

A look of astonishment spread across Sam's face as he put the pieces together. Dean could almost hear the wheels turning in his head as his little brother thought it through.

"Wanna share with the class, Sam?" Dean asked, desperately curious to know what Sam was thinking.

"I knew I'd read something! There was a plague or infection or something around here recently that killed off a lot of small animals. The EPA didn't want them burned or in landfill, so the town buried hundreds of them in an old mineshaft at the edge of the park." Sam's eyes were wide and animated as he filled his brother in - Dean had a horrible feeling he already knew where this was going.

"I bet that mineshaft was in this clearing, Dean. Before they sealed it, they filled it with dead possums and chipmunks and  _squirrels_ ," Sam finished, showing Dean the pine nuts in his hand for emphasis.

Dean sighed. Yeah - here they were. Exactly where he thought this was headed.

"Don't say it. Don't you  _dare_  say zombie squirrels."

Sam looked confused - in his mind, it was perfectly clear. "I just don't see what else it could be, man. I mean, Laura and Travis saw squirrels with red eyes. And the tiny bites, the squirrel-sized patches of unholy ground and the dead spots that go all the way to the top of the trees, the nuts scattered everywhere... I can't believe I'm saying it either, but I think we have to accept that we're dealing with zombie squirrels." Sam had the evidence to back it up, and they both knew it.

"If you get enough of them, I bet zombie squirrels could carry off a young woman. And these nuts - the squirrels are probably trying to eat them, but I don't imagine nuts are doing anything for their hunger... So they abandon them scattered all over the ground, and bring back what they  _really_  want to eat," Sam added.

"Even for us, this is weird." Dean sighed, scrubbing his hand over his face. God help him, he was convinced.

"Tell me about it." Sam had to smile - it was absurd, really. "So, what do you think - Croatoan for rodents? Spell? Angry Pagan woods God? Another example of the post-Apocalypse monster weirdness?" he asked, and Dean shrugged.

"Man, I've got no clue," he chuckled, and Sam couldn't help but laugh with him. This whole thing  _was_  pretty ridiculous.

"Okay. So, now we know the squirrels are back topside. I just don't see how we're going to put them back down..." Sam pointed out their next challenge. Dean, however, looked confident.

"We already know this one, Sammy. We stake them back into their gravebeds, and - oh. Right." Dean frowned as he thought that through. Neither brother fancied their chances of staking dozens of squirrels back into their mass grave with stakes not much larger than kitchen skewers.

"We can still take them out with head shots..." Dean started, then trailed off as he imagined shooting at moving targets only slightly bigger than the rounds he'd be loading the gun with.

"Maybe Bobby has an idea," Sam suggested, getting another bark of laughter from his brother.

"Yeah, I'm sure he's seen plenty of evil Apocalyptic ninja zombie squirrels over the years," Dean replied, smiling widely.

"You're enjoying this far too much." Sam had to bite his lip to keep from smiling right back.

"You've gotta find pleasure in your work, Sammy, remember? And you have to admit, this is kinda funny," Dean pointed out.

"I think that's enough hunting for today, Dean," Sam told him, trying his best to keep a straight face, and Dean just grinned as he started back towards the Impala. Sam threw the pine nuts back on the ground, following close behind.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o- o-o-o

The first time they tried calling Bobby from their motel room, all Sam got was a busy signal.

"I bet he's on the phone to a 900 number or something," Dean suggested, chuckling as he laid back on his bed and stifled a yawn.

"Dude, I really don't need that image in my head." Sam shuddered, screwing up his nose as he hung up the phone. The cream-coloured  _rotary_  phone. The damn thing belonged in a museum.

"Give him ten minutes then call back, I guess," Dean replied, kicking off his shoes.

"I'm gonna go get a can of Coke or something out of the machine. Want anything?" Sam asked, as he unlocked the front door.

"I could go for some Mountain Dew," Dean answered after a few seconds' thought, settling back into the pillows.

When Sam got back a few minutes later, Dean was fast asleep in the same position as when he left. He put Dean's Mountain Dew in the esky next to their six-pack, and powered on his laptop for a little research on undead rodents.

Sam ignored the noises Dean was making in his sleep, at first. He didn't want to imagine what his brother was dreaming about - he didn't need those images in his head, either. When they turned from happy noises into something that sounded more like the soundtrack to a nightmare, though, Sam figured he'd better do the humane thing and wake Dean up.

He grabbed the can of Mountain Dew and set it on the nightstand before he put a hand on Dean's shoulder and shook his older brother. Dean's eyes snapped open immediately, and he looked relieved to see it was Sam standing over him.

"How long was I out?" he groaned, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

"Only about ten minutes," Sam replied, sitting on the edge of his own bed and passing his brother the Mountain Dew.

"Thanks, Sammy." Dean cracked it open and took a long drink, settling back against the pillows.

"So were you dreaming about the evil ninja squirrels?" Sam asked, smiling. The smile faded when he saw the look on Dean's face.

"No... I started out dreaming about Laura, the water-skier." Dean sighed, a little smile touching the corners of his mouth as he began to describe his dream. "You know, getting out of the water all soaking wet and -"

"Dude. Stop," Sam interrupted, eyes shut against the mental imagery. "I heard the noises you were making, Dean, and I do  _not_  need any more information than that." Sam held up his hand in the universal 'stop' signal - he knew exactly where that dream had probably been going, and he had absolutely zero desire to hear Dean describe it.

Dean smiled a little at that, always happy to make his little brother squirm. "Anyway, we were in the water and -" he stopped as Sam shot him a warning look, and rethought the narrative slightly, "- and suddenly there were..." Dean paused again, smile gone and not sure how to continue without sounding completely insane. Sam sat silently, eyes on his brother, waiting for Dean to go on.

"Well, we were in the water and there were...  _water_ _-_ _skiing_  zombie squirrels all around us. In tiny bloodstained lifejackets."

Sam dissolved into laughter at that point. He couldn't help it. He laughed so hard he almost fell off the bed - then, when he finally calmed down enough to catch his breath, he caught sight of the annoyed expression on Dean's face and cracked up all over again.

" _Dude_!" Dean was evidently not amused, and Sam knew he shouldn't be laughing because Dean obviously thought this was serious, but he found the mental image of water-skiing zombie squirrels was just  _hilarious_. Dean sat silently, watching Sam rolling around on his bed laughing, and didn't even crack a smile.

When Sam was done laughing, he sat up and noticed Dean's expression and immediately put on the best serious face he could manage. "I'm sorry, Dean - that's not funny at all. Must've been awful," he said, trying to catch his breath.

"Damn right it's not funny! Those things were like tiny piranhas!" Dean glared at Sam, acutely aware that his brother didn't see why this was such a big deal.

Sam tried valiantly to compose himself and find some sympathy for Dean - obviously it felt like a nightmare to him, and Sam knew he should really try to show him some support. "I'm sorry, Dean, honestly, but...  _water_ _-_ _skiing_  evil Apocalyptic ninja zombie squirrels in tiny bloodstained lifejackets!" Sam couldn't help it - he collapsed into fits of laughter again, with Dean scowling at him from the other bed.

"Okay, we're ending this ridiculousness tonight. I'm gonna try Bobby again," Dean growled, as he got up and stalked over to his mobile phone.

When Sam had composed himself he and Dean sat opposite each other at the kitchen table, Dean's phone in the centre, on speaker-phone with Bobby.

 _"Are you two kidding me? Zombie squirrels?"_ Bobby's disembodied voice carried his disbelief rather effectively, even through the phone's tiny speakers.

 _"Water_ _-_ _skiing_  evil Apocalyptic ninja zombie squirrels in tiny bloodstained lifejackets," Sam whispered, grinning, and Dean shot him a look that would melt steel.

 _"If this a joke, boys, it's not funny."_  Bobby didn't sound convinced. Sam, having gotten over the initial hilarity of Dean's nightmare, finally had his head back in the game.

"Honestly, Bobby, we're not kidding. How do we gank dozens of vicious, red-eyed undead rodents?" he asked, leaning forward with his elbows on the table.

Bobby sighed on the other end of the phone, and Sam and Dean could just picturehim rubbing his chin as he thought.

_"I've never heard of anything remotely like this. I guess it works the same way as it does with human zombies... I've got a ritual someplace for that, but you boys are gonna have to go pick up a few things..."_


	3. Tiny stakes and head shots

Later that night, having accomplished Bobby's shopping list, Sam and Dean headed back to the clearing to do the ritual.

"So what are we gonna do if zombie squirrels are in fact different from zombie people?" Dean wondered, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel as Sam read over the ritual one more time.

"I've been thinking about that. The fact that undead squirrel unholy ground is the same as undead people unholy ground has to be a good sign," Sam replied without looking up, head tilted to the side as he read. "Of course, if this ritual doesn't work, we're back to tiny stakes and head shots," he added, patting the bag of miniature garden stakes that sat beside him on the seat; one of the seemingly-innocent items they'd bought from the town hardware store on their earlier shopping spree. Just in case.

As they rounded the corner onto the road that ran by the clearing, Dean immediately noticed something was up. "Hey - check that out." He nudged Sam with his elbow and pointed out the windscreen towards the flickering light illuminating the clearing. As Sam looked up from the Latin, Dean switched off the Impala's lights, turned off the engine and coasted to a stop off to the side of the road.

"Looks like someone's paying a late-night visit to the squirrel graveyard," Sam observed, pulling the duffel from the back seat and stuffing the ritual into it, eyes still locked on the clearing.

"Well, I can only think of one reason someone would want to do that." Dean pulled out his Colt and removed, checked, and replaced the magazine before he and Sam got out of the Impala - as quietly as possible, with minimal squeaking from the door hinges - and snuck along the park fence towards the mysterious light.

When they got close it became apparent what was going on in the clearing: a ring of lit candles had been set up in the centre, and there was a figure crouched down in the middle of the circle leaning over a collection of various herbs, candles and sigils, chanting quietly in Latin. Sam smiled vaguely at the appalling pronunciation as they crept closer.

They slowly spread out, guns drawn, approaching ring of candles silently. The figure was that of a young guy, maybe in his late teens, and he was completely unaware the Winchesters were creeping up on him. Then the awful Latin stopped, and the clearing was suddenly illuminated by five-foot high green flame as the figure threw a match into bowl of herbs and black powder.

Dean silently cursed their luck as the flame lit up the clearing like daylight. To make matters worse, the bright green light reflected back off his stainless steel Colt like a mirror, lighting him up like the proverbial Christmas tree.

Sam's eyes went wide as he saw the young man look up, directly at Dean, and he automatically brought his gun up and pointed it directly at the kid's back. The kid had no idea Sam was there, let alone that he would in fact shoot him dead where he stood if he moved a muscle to hurt Dean.

"What the hell are you doing here?" The teen almost screamed as he jumped up, obviously scared half to death.

Dean and Sam both stopped dead, surprised. That was definitely not what they had been expecting.

"I think a better question is what are  _you_ doing here?" Dean was first to recover, stepping forward into the clearing with his gun still held out in front of him, but not pointed directly at the kid anymore. The look of absolute terror plastered on his face made him seem like much less of a threat.

The kid didn't - or couldn't - say a word; and he didn't have to, really. It was obvious what he was doing - it was actually much the same thing that Sam and Dean had come to do. Sam even recognised the Greek symbols painted onto the grass from the ritual Bobby had given them.

"So you're the one responsible for these squirrels doing an imitation of  _Night of The Living Dead_ , then?" Dean asked drily, having obviously noticed the sigils as well - he'd visibly relaxed, gun now held down by his side. The kid, however, still looked like he was about to have a stroke.

"Look, you gotta believe me - I didn't want them to start killing people!" he stammered, hands up as if he were trying to surrender. "I'm trying to send them back: she didn't tell me they'd be  _evil_!" He started backing away from Dean, as Sam stepped forward into the clearing, cutting off his escape. Again, the kid almost screamed - he had no idea Sam was even there.

"So how did you think a bunch of undead squirrels were gonna act?" Dean was shouting now - he couldn't quite believe what he was hearing.

"Wait - s _he_?" Sam had caught that, though. "Did someone put you up to this?" he asked, and the kid nodded, still looking very much like a deer caught in headlights.

"Yeah - I met this girl in Wholefoods a couple of weeks back, and she talked me into doing this... ritual, I guess, in this clearing," he admitted, obviously mortified at the whole situation.

"Evil Apocalyptic ninja zombie squirrels are attacking people all over this town because you met a  _girl_  in a health food store?" Now Dean  _really_ couldn't believe what he was hearing.

Sam stepped around in front of the kid, trying to get him to focus on something other than his terror. The kid couldn't stop staring at Dean's Colt as the elder Winchester paced up and down the clearing like a caged lion.

"This girl. What did she look like?" Sam asked, standing right in the kid's face and blocking his view of his increasingly homicidal brother.

"Umm - she had this long, brown hair, in this white cotton dress... and she said her name was Eve." The kid was calmer now, having focused on Sam.

"Eve. You're sure her name was  _Eve_?" Sam's eyes went wide. Behind him, Dean suddenly stopped pacing.

"Yeah, I'm sure - you don't forget a girl like that, man." The kid nodded, seeing that this piece of information was somehow important.

"Well, that's just delightful," Dean sighed from behind Sam, rubbing his hand over his face.

"Start packing this up, okay?" Sam told the kid, motioning to the circle of candles with his Taurus before he went over to join Dean on the edge of the clearing.

"So why is Eve messing around with squirrels?" Sam wondered in hushed tones, watching over Dean's shoulder as the kid started packing up his stuff with shaky hands.

"I'm sure she thinks it's entertaining," Dean replied, forehead creased as he thought.

"It has to be more than that, doesn't it?" Sam raised his eyebrows.

"Does it? Her road trip down the I-90 was apparently just for the hell of it. I'm sure she thinks this is freaking hilarious," Dean replied, rolling his eyes. "Let's put an end to this practical joke of hers and gank these squirrels."

Dean, obviously very ready to be rid of the evil Apocalyptic ninja zombie squirrels, went to retrieve the duffel from behind a nearby bush as Sam watched the kid finish packing up his bag.

"So... can I, uh, go now?" the kid asked, standing to the side of the clearing and watching Dean tuck his Colt into his waistband before he started setting up his own ritual supplies.

"I'm thinking you should, yeah - Dean and I are going to take care of the squirrels. Just remember, no more rituals in the woods at night with strange girls, okay?" Sam told the kid, who nodded earnestly.

"I'm never coming out here again, man!" He picked up his bag and took off towards the road before Sam could change his mind.

"So we almost ready?" Sam asked Dean, who was fine-tuning sigils inside their own circle - this one was made of salt and various crushed herbs, as directed by Bobby's ritual.

"Yeah. You got the Latin down?" Dean asked, focused intently on his last symbol.

"Just waiting for you to finish the..." he started, but trailed off. Dean finished drawing and looked up to find Sam standing dead still, staring off into the trees at his back with an uneasy look on his face.

"You can see them in the trees, can't you?" Dean sighed knowingly.

"Um, yeah..." Sam whispered, and Dean sighed again.

" _Naturally_. Well, I'm thinking you might want to, you know, start the ritual?" he suggested, voice low and intense as he began to get up very slowly.

"And what are you going to do? Shoot them all in the head in the dark?" Sam hissed, eyes still on the small chittering shadows rustling the dead branches all around them.

"Just do the ritual, Sam, and let me worry about the evil Apocalyptic ninja zombie squirrels." Dean pulled his gun out of his waistband and flicked the safety off. Sam took his place in the circle and started reading as quickly and quietly as he possibly could.

With Dean keeping an eye on the tiny undead rodents in the trees, Sam managed to get most of the way through the ritual. But, when he threw the match into the bowl of crushed herbs and charcoal, all Hell broke loose. The 4-foot high flame lit up the dozens of red-eyed, foaming-at-the-mouth squirrels in the trees all around them. All at once the miniature zombies came leaping out of the trees, screeching evilly with their red eyes almost glowing, straight at Sam and Dean.

As the herbs and charcoal smouldered down towards the pocket of crushed sage and gunpowder at the bottom of the bowl that would (hopefully) seal the spell and re-kill the squirrels, Sam hurried toward the end of the incantation and tried to ignore the excellent imitation of a machine gun that Dean was doing with his Colt.

"Sam! Whenever you're ready, I think we should leave!" Dean shouted, disintegrating the head of a squirrel that got awfully close to Sam's neck. The ones that got through the hail of bullets were introduced to Dean's steel-toe boots, sent flying into other oncoming squirrels as he kicked them away with all his strength. As he reloaded, he wondered briefly if that made them  _flying_  evil Apocalyptic ninja zombie squirrels.

"Okay - done. Let's go." Sam shoved the ritual back into the duffel and slung it over his shoulder as he got to his feet, when he was immediately set upon by a zombie squirrel, a tiny tornado of bloodstained fur and gnashing teeth.

With Dean unable to shoot it without hitting his little brother, Sam did the first thing that came to mind - he hurled the little monster to the ground, grabbed a tiny stake from the bag and impaled the squirrel through the chest straight into a patch of unholy ground. With one last bloodcurdling screech, it shuddered and died - permanently, this time.

"Let's  _go_ , Sam!" Dean was fast running out of ammunition, and there were still far more squirrels left than he'd like to admit.

They both took off running for the Impala, squirrels following close behind. "I was really hoping you might have shot them already!" Sam shouted, feeling tiny undead rodent hands scratching at his ankles as he ran.

"I was trying, Sam - they have freakin' tiny heads!" Dean yelled back, apparently not in the mood for good-natured teasing from his little brother. "How much longer till that charcoal burns through?" he demanded, pulling his keys from his pocket as he ran.

"It should almost have burned -  _oo_ _ph_!" Sam came crashing down hard onto the ground behind Dean as the evil Apocalyptic ninja zombie squirrels got under his feet and tripped him over.

 _"Dean_!" Sam screamed, rolling onto his back as a wave of the tiny monsters washed over him. He grabbed a handful of stakes that had spilled out of the duffel and started staking any zombie rodent within reach, while he kicked wildly at the others. He could feel their sharp teeth piercing his clothes and tearing at his legs and stomach, trying to do to him what they'd done to their previous victims.

"Sammy!" Dean came running back, shooting what squirrels he could and kicking at others, but there were just too many tiny zombies to deal with - Dean was almost out of ammunition, Sam's giant hands made it hard to use the tiny stakes, and there were still dozens of miniature zombies swarming all over the youngest Winchester.

Just as Dean loaded his last clip and Sam found that the blood all over his hands made it almost impossible to stake them, every single zombie squirrel collapsed where it stood. With one last screech, all of them died on the spot and Sam and Dean watched, amazed and gasping for breath, as all the tiny corpses decayed and turned to ash in front of them.

"I guess the charcoal burned through," Dean observed, kneeling beside his little brother, now covered in the ashes of multiple evil Apocalyptic ninja zombie squirrels. "You okay, Sammy?" he asked, forehead creased with concern as he pulled Sam up into a sitting position.

"I think so." Sam checked out the wounds under his tattered clothes, but was surprised to find they were mostly pretty superficial. "I think I'm good," he added, with more certainty.

"Dude, I thought they had you for a second," Dean admitted, getting up and tucking his Colt into his jeans.

"You and me both," Sam sighed, gathering up the few remaining stakes scattered around him. After all the things they'd hunted, he couldn't quite believe that tiny undead mammals smaller than his shoes had nearly done him in.

"Let's get the hell out of here, huh?" Dean helped Sam up, surveying the zombie squirrel carnage left in their wake before heading for the Impala. Sam picked up the duffel and limped after Dean, brushing ash off him as he went.

"You better not get ash in my car, man," Dean told him, smiling, as he opened the driver's door. Sam glared at his brother across the car's roof, and Dean just laughed as he got in and shut the door. Sam sighed and, after brushing himself off thoroughly, threw the duffel into the back seat and joined Dean in the front.

"I think you need a shower. You look terrible," Dean suggested as he pulled onto the road. He didn't look over, but Sam knew he was grinning - wordlessly, Sam fingered the deposits of ash in his pockets with a little smile on his face. If Dean didn't shut his mouth soon, he  _was_  going to have some cleaning to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...? What did we think...?  
> I have discovered that reviews are addictive... I don't mind if it's ten words or two hundred: please tell me what you thought! Pretty please? With a cherry on top? :) And, if you enjoyed it, please hit the 'share' button and tell someone!


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